Welcome to Schumann
by snnyk33
Summary: Her obsession with popularity, beauty, and fashion evaporated over night. She lost friends. She lost her boyfriend. But more importantly, she lost herself. BRUCAS
1. The New Girl

**_A/N: Hello readers! So, here is a story idea that I came up with. I've also post another new story called "Hope" that will focus solely on Brucas (I couldn't think of a better title). Whatever story gets the most reviews is the story I will continue. I recently posted a Twilight fanfic, which I will not continue due to lack of interest. I also prefer to write for Brucas. The reason I will not continue both is because I'm not continuing writing after summer. All I Want will be complete and only has a few chapters left. Then I will work on my last story. To give you a little back ground about this story, it is an ooc story. The characters are in high school. Brooke is the new girl and this will be my first story were Lucas is more of a "bad ass". However, you won't see that in this chapter. I don't want to give too much away. "Hope" is were the main characters are older. Anyways, let me know which you'd prefer to read... if any._**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

**_Thanks, Sarah_**

Welcome to Schumann

Chapter 1: The New Girl

It wasn't an easy choice deciding to leave Tree Hill. The small town was the only home she ever knew. It was her domain, her palace. She was the reigning queen of Tree Hill High. Being the prom queen, student body president, captain of the cheerleaders and girlfriend of a local basketball star allowed her to reach the highest position in high school hierarchy. Brooke Davis was the girl everyone wanted to be. The girl every guy wanted to posses.

However, that life was now over. Her obsession with popularity, beauty, and fashion evaporated over night. She lost friends. She lost her boyfriend. But more importantly, she lost herself.

And as she walked the halls of Schumann High School, she felt no pressure. There was no longer a need to be flawless. She was broken on the inside, and that wouldn't change with a beautiful Bloomingdale's top. A black t-shirt, which she threw on haphazardly, fit her perfectly, outlining her every curve and showing of her flat stomach. Her tight jeans, which had gone unwashed for a week, hugged her ass before hitting her black converse sneakers. Her hair was pulled back into a messing ponytail with a minimal amount of makeup covering her flawless skin.

She wasn't trying. She didn't want to impress anyone. But it was hard for Brooke not the look stunning. It was impossible for her to be undesirable, even if she didn't wash her jeans.

The halls were empty. First period had already started when she finally made her way into the school. As she took in the building, she realized it was probably five times bigger than her small "kingdom", even though Schumann had fewer students. It was a school for the elite, full of the smartest and wealthiest teens in America.

"Ironic," Brooke muttered to herself. She was done with the superficial things in life. And now she was attending a school full of just those things. But this was the school she'd chosen. She wouldn't stand out. Hopefully, they wouldn't recognize her.

She looked at the schedule Mr. Turner had given her less than fifteen minutes ago. Without much thought, she skimmed her classes. Study Hall… Biology… European History… Advance Placement English… Lunch… Trigonometry… Aerobics…

"Fuck," she whined. That's what happens when you take mostly electives in the first two years of high school. She was behind. And now that she was a junior, it was time to catch up.

The staircase took her to the second floor. Room 216 was her destination. It took her a while to find the room. But when she finally did, she didn't hesitate to open the doors. She stepped in front of the class without glancing at anyone. But she knew they were looking. There were whispers, an occasional whistle. Her wish to go unnoticed was denied. Hopefully, this would only last briefly. The attention she once desired, was now unwanted.

The old man stood up from the desk, "Hello young lady." The teacher looked down at a piece of paper on his desk, "You must be Brooke Davis. I'm your study hall teacher Coach Durham."

"Yea," Brooke shook Whitey's extended hand.

She finally turned around to look at the class. Hah, Brooke almost laughed out loud. The girls were beautiful, the guys were handsome. Typical. Her trained eyes surveyed the room- Coach, Gucci, Calvin Klein, Chanel, Dior, and Mark Jacobs. She wasn't in Tree Hill anymore. She was an outcast now. What a new feeling for the socialite.

There was a vacant seat in the back. Without waiting any longer, she started to move to the empty spot.

"Wait Miss Davis," Whitey called out.

Brooke turned to her teacher, wondering what the hell he wanted.

"Tell us something about yourself."

Her eyebrow twitched up. This was unexpected. "So this is like 5th grade? What do you want to know? My favorite color?"

The whispers grew louder. She was feisty, another classic Brooke Davis trait.

Whitey didn't take any offense to her questions. He was used to this. You develop thick skin when working at this type of education facility. "Whatever you want to share with us."

She thought for a minute, 'Something about me?' Well, the truth was too complicated. Was she supposed to say her best friend had died less than two weeks ago? Or maybe that her boyfriend left her only a few days after that? Or she could just confess that she's a former student of Tree Hill High School? Everyone would know what she was a product of… a hostage situation that last six hours in the halls of her old school. The truth was something she'd never tell.

"My favorite color is red," she stated deadpanned.

Brooke walked to her new seat, trying to ignore the eyes focused solely on her. And once seated, the heads were facing towards their i-phones and blackberries. Probably texting about the new girl and for the first time in a really long time, Brooke didn't care what they were saying.

-

The bell couldn't have come soon enough. She felt like she was in study hall for hours, but really she was only in there for thirty minutes. However, her great escape to biology was interrupted.

"Miss Davis," Whitey called.

Brooke stopped in her tracks, "Yes, Coach Durham."

"I've enlisted the help of Haley James to show you to the rest of your classes today. She's our student body president. We don't get new students around here, so she'd be delighted to show you the ropes here at Schumann."

She would have declined assistance from anyone. Brooke Davis didn't need help; this mentality had hurt her a few times in the past. But before she could speak, Brooke saw a student, presumably 'Haley James', standing next to Coach Durham's desk.

"Hello, I'm Haley James."

Haley gave a polite wave. Brooke noted Haley's appearance- she looked like a politician. In black heels, she wore a pencil skirt traveling just above her knees and a silk white blouse. Calvin Klein. Brooke frowned; this habit of identifying designers was hard to break.

"Brooke Davis."

"Well, you two better get going. Biology isn't going to wait for you Miss Davis."

The two girls walked out into the busy hallway. And instantly, eyes were on her. Brooke sighed in frustration. Don't these people have other things to worry about? Like where to spend their family's money or where the next party was?

Haley smiled, "I'm sorry but we don't see too many new faces around here. You're fresh meat."

"Yea… well, I'm not interesting. So, I'm sure they'll lose interest fast."

Haley led the way down the staircase. The silence between the two was starting to build into tension, "Where are you from?"

"California," Brooke lied. Well, she was not really lying. Her parents resided in California. She just left the living alone in North Carolina part out.

"Really? We have some students that are from California."

"Oh?" Brooke questioned even though she wasn't very interested.

Haley nodded, "Actually, my boyfriend is from San Diego. He and his brother live in New York during the school year. They're on the basketball team."

"Ah." Brooke muttered- still uninterested.

"Yup, we have the best basketball team in the nation. We've won Nationals three years in a row, soon to be four. "

Brooke made a mental note about the way Haley talked about Schumann. There was so much pride in her voice when she talked about her school, maybe it was really pride in her boyfriend.

"Do you have any questions? Maybe concerns about Schumann?"

By now, they were standing outside Brooke's biology class. Questions? Concerns? She shook her head. All she needed from Schumann was a diploma, then she would hopefully back pack across Europe. After that, she had no plans.

"You know Brooke, Schumann is more than a school. And trust me, I'm not saying that just because I'm the student body president. We're a family here. A lot of the kids have parents thousands of miles away, just like you, including me. I know its intimidating coming into a school like this, so if you ever need one single thing let me know. I'll see you after class."

As Haley walked away, Brooke tried to think of why Haley seemed so familiar. Haley was confident, friendly, and stylish. She was the student body president. Obviously, crazy about her boyfriend, who was a basketball player. Her parents were thousands of miles away from their daughter. And then it hit Brooke like a ton of bricks, Haley James was the old Brooke Davis.

-

Brooke had reassured Haley that she didn't need an escort to every single class. After all, she was a junior. There was no need for a babysitter. Or maybe there was. As of now, she was lost on Schumann's third floor. There was no doubt that she was truant to English.

After a few turns, she stood across from a pair of glass double doors, paralyzing her in her footsteps.

"_So Brooke, What are you doing tonight?"_

"_Well … I was thinking about playing with Mr. Jagielski." Brooke winked at her best friend as they walked to first period. "What about you?"_

"_Actually, I was wondering if you could come over after school. We need to talk."_

"_Peyton?" Brooke could hear the strain in her friend's voice, "Are you ok? You know, we could leave school now?"_

_By now, Brooke and Peyton had rounded the corner, facing the glass double doors leading to their lockers. Peyton stopped, "No, I can't. I have a test third period."_

"_Ok… after school then." Brooke felt Peyton shift uncomfortably, "Peyton whatever is going on, we'll get through it together. Don't worry." Peyton smiled at Brooke's works, before giving her friend a hug._

_When the girls turned to continue walking, they saw Jimmy with the gun. And before they could react the bullet pierced through the glass doors into Peyton's shoulder. _

Her books fell to the floor, which brought her back to reality. And the reality was, she could change schools, leave her hometown and friends behind. But her past would continue to follow her. Her nightmares and fears didn't understand boundary lines. New York was no different from North Carolina. And Tree Hill High was no different than Schumann.

-

The cafeteria was crowded as usual- mainly because there was only one lunch period. Haley stood in the senior courtyard, waiting at her usual table. There were many perks to the seniors, special outdoor seating was one of them. The person she was waiting for came into sight. Nathan Scott, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, walked up to his girlfriend. He dropped his bag quickly, and took his girlfriend in his arms.

"You look…incredible." Nathan's eyes scanned her body. He growled in her ear causing her to let out a giggle.

"Thanks. I have my big interview today at Columbia right after school," Haley pulled away from him. "I'm so nervous. I feel like I'm going to throw up at any minute."

Nathan pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear, "You'll be great. But you know, you could always go to Stanford. I mean, they've already accepted you and its October. I can picture it now. Me at USC. You at Stanford. My basketball scholarship is practically a done deal."

"I…"

Guilt instantly washed over him. How many times had they had this conversation? Or argument? He promised himself, and her, to not try to persuade her one way or another. She hadn't pick schools yet. Hell, she might not even get into Columbia. Only time would tell. He would just have to wait.

"Sorry, I'm out of line…"

"No, no… let's just wait it out. See what happens."

Nathan nodded, and pulled his girlfriends head in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "How's your day so far?"

"Oh," Haley smiled, "I've met the new girl. You know, gave her the grand tour. She seems like a decent girl, a little rough around the edges."

"Brooke Davis…" Nathan stated. "She is definitely the talk of the school."

Haley frowned, "What are people saying?"

Haley James was beautiful and smart, making her one of the most popular girls in school. But Nathan was more so popular. He was the traditional bad boy turned good. So, the jocks opened up to him, and the girls spilled their hearts out to him. He knew everything.

"You know, the guys are checking her out. The girls are jealous. I've heard some people calling her Broke Davis, because well, as you put it, she's rough around the edges. There are already rumors. I heard she is a lesbian. Oh, and a couple of the guys on the team have bets going on."

"Bets?" Haley questioned.

"Yes, Bets. Some guys on the team are…"

She held up her hand, "I don't want to know. Just stop it, please." Haley knew Nathan couldn't stop the rumors or the gossip. But he could stop the bets. He would.

"Already on it."

Just then, their 'crowd' made their way to their table. Skillz, Chase, Anna, Millicent, Bevin, and Owen walked up together, casually putting their bags, purses, and food at their usual spots. It was the 'in crowd', minus Lucas and Rachel, wherever they were. The guys were on the team, while the girls were on the cheer squad with Haley. It made sense for them to all bond. Most of their time was spent at practices, games, and tournaments.

Nathan smiled, "Bets are off boys."

"Are you serious?" Skillz asked, "There's no harm in having a little fun."

Haley put her hands on her hips, a disgusted look present on her face, "Yes, he's serious. Come on guys, she's new. It's hard enough having to move across the country to go to a school like this."

As Nathan took his seat, he observed his wife. She wasn't usually so protective of others, well except for him. Haley was friendly, but he couldn't put his finger on why Brooke Davis' well-being was so important to her.

"Speak of the devil," Skillz smiled.

"I'm going to get her," Haley stated more to herself than anyone else. "Brooke!" She called when she opened the door, causing the brunette to turn around. Brooke walked to Haley as the other students in the hallway watched. "You want to eat with us?"

"But"… Brooke pointed to their table, "I'm not a senior."

"So, I'm inviting you. No one's going to say anything."

She weighed her options. She wasn't worried about sitting in the senior section, but she didn't have the heart to tell Haley she'd prefer to sit alone. That would probably result in even more stares and gossip.

"Ok."

Brooke followed Haley to the table, taking a seat next to her. "Everyone this is Brooke."

Haley introduced everyone, which caused Brooke to give a tight smile. She was already regretting her decision to sit her. The stares were starting to rattle her.

"How's your first day going?" Nathan asked, which prompted Haley to give him a big smile.

"Not so good," Brooke pulled out a detention slip from her pocket. "First day, first detention."

"What?" Haley grabbed the slip, "You missed English?"

Brooke nodded.

"Why?" She asked, while others waited for some reason.

"I need to get some food," Without another word, she left the table. Deciding she didn't want to listen to any more questions, she went to the cafeteria so she could eat along.

-

"Well, Miss Davis." Mr. Dawson smiled as she walked into the room. Brooke groaned inwardly, there was something about her biology teacher that gave her the chills. Possibly the way his eyes roamed her body. "We meet again. I'll take your slip. Go ahead and have a seat."

Detention. It doesn't matter what state you live in, what school you go to, or who you are. It's boring and goes by incredibly slow. So, she walked to a seat in the back, slowly dragging one foot behind the other.

It was slightly annoying, as of now, she was the only one sitting in detention. Another thing that made her stand out even more. She felt like a delinquent and slightly stupid. No one should ever be given a detention on their first day at a new school.

And as she cursed her bad luck, she noticed a tall, slender man walk through the doors. His hair was a dusty blonde, which flew in various places on top of his head. His position was erect, showing his confidence with every stride in his steps. And for the first time today, Brooke felt… Well, she didn't exactly know what she felt. But it was something.

She watched his every move as he placed the detention slip in front of Mr. Dawson. This was obviously not his first time, "Well, Mr. Scott. What do I owe the pleasure of your company on this wonderful fall afternoon?"

"Look Dawson," his voice had Brooke in a trance. It was powerful, commanding, and deep. "I understand, and respect, the policy on missing class. I deeply regret missing my language class, since it is my favorite subject. I completely agree that there should be some form of punishment for my behavior. However, if I miss practice… if I serve this detention, then Durham will make me do two hours of suicides tonight. Now, if you have any respect for this institution, you will let me go to practice so I'm not completely useless for Friday's game."

Mr. Dawson rolled his eyes, "Sit down Lucas."

He took a seat in the front, never allowing his eyes to scan the room. His muscular back moved up and down with each breath he took. As Brooke studied his athletic body, her mouth became dry.

And almost instantly she felt guilt. Her head lowered, and she kept her eyes focused on the desk. She wasn't supposed feel anything, let alone lust. She picked her head up, pushing every thought, every desire into the back of her mind. However, her eyes fluttered back to the object of her affection.

But a clearing throat diverted her eyes to the classroom doorway, "Excuse Mr. Dawson, Principle Turner wants to see you in his office."

A tall, thin red head was leaning against the door frame. She was dressed in a pair of tiny athletic shorts and a tight fitting tank top. Her eyes were set on a skeptic Mr. Dawson, who was slowly walking out of the classroom.

Once out of hearing ranged, she sighed, "Don't worry baby, you'll be out of here soon. I talked to Turner and…"

"Rachel… Please tell me you didn't…"

Rachel moved in front of Lucas' desk, "Oh, I did. Don't worry about it. You'll make it up to me later."

Brooke watched as Rachel lowered her head, giving Lucas a slow seductive kiss. And no matter how badly she wanted to look away, she couldn't. She was truly curious about the guy sitting five rows in front of her, and who this girl was to him. But more importantly, did he kiss her back? She couldn't tell. She shifted in her seat, trying to get a better look.

And to her horror, Rachel opened her eyes with her lips still lingering on the guy in front of her. Instantly, she looked away, hoping her presence would go unnoticed.

"Enjoying the show, Broke Davis?"

The red heads voice was laced with malice, with didn't surprise Brooke. After all, she had a gift for reading people. And the nickname 'Broke Davis'? It wasn't something that surprised her either. She heard it whispered throughout the halls the second half of the day. In her eyes, the name lacked originality, creativity, and truth. She even thought about driving her 2009 Mercedes-Benz C350 instead of taking the subway just to prove them all wrong. But decided that would just cause more rumors.

Brooke opened her mouth to answer her. But nothing came out. And to make matters worse, Lucas turned around. All the attention was on her, just like it had been all day. But when Lucas eyes were finally on her, they left quickly, much to her own disappointment and surprise.

"Rachel…" He said in a scolding tone, "Don't be such a bitch."

She shrugged her shoulders, "You know I can't help it. Besides you love it."

"Ha," Lucas laughed loudly, "If by love you mean extremely hate it, then yes. I love it a lot."

Just before she could witness anymore of their banter, Mr. Dawson walked into the room, "Well, it seems that there has been some sort of mistake. Brooke you can leave. Principle Turner wasn't happy to hear that you were given a detention. It is your first day after all. Oh and Lucas, you can go."

Mr. Dawson waved his hand towards the door while collecting his things at the desk. And much to her displeasure, Lucas and Rachel left without another word, or glance, towards her.

"Huh," Brooke muttered to herself as she left the room. It was slightly odd. All she wanted was to be ignored. And when someone finally decides to do it, she feels a lump in her stomach. But then again, Lucas Scott was just more that a someone.


	2. A Warning Preview

**_A/N: So, I've gotten a few messages, basically asking, "Where the hell are you?" And it's a valid question. Sadly my plans for this summer were ruined. I had every intention on dedicating time to my fics these past months. However, life had other plans. I'm not going to make any promises about updates because every time I do something pops up. Understand that my life is crazy and I write for fun... when I have time. I want to finish AIW and I want to continue Schumann. This is a preview. No Brucas yet. I have written more in Chapter 2. There will be interaction between Brooke and Lucas. Nathan will reach out to Brooke. And we'll find out a little bit more about Brooke's family. By the way... you all are awesome. And if I had a choice, I would stay locked up in my room and write._**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing_**

**_-Sarah_**

**Chapter 2: A Warning (Preview)**

"Shit…"

The day definitely didn't start off the way she planned. Her phone was set to wake her up at six in the morning. However, she slept through it. Instead of her alarm clock waking her up, she was jolted awake from violent visions that were all too real. After a few deep breaths she was able to come back to reality- she was late for school.

As of now, Brooke was frantically running around her hotel suite trying to find something suitable to wear for her second day at Schumann. A pile of unwashed clothes were in the middle of the walk-in closet, which could be considered another room by itself.

Boxes of her 'old' clothes lined the walls of the room, while the clothes she had been wearing the past couple weeks rested in the small heap. From the top, she picked up a pair of jeans. Trying to spot any stains, she lifted them above her head.

"Fuck…" Brooke murmured to herself when she saw the large ketchup stain.

For the next five minutes, she went through the pile. But she was unsuccessful. Everything was dirty… too dirty to wear.

Without thinking, she grabbed one of her boxes. In one quick motion, Brooke pulled the tape of the top. Inside was full of her designer attire. True Religion Jeans. Seven for All Mankind. Citizens of Humanity. Calvin Klein. All Designer. In her opinion, all disgusting.

With a pair in her hand, she debated the situation at hand. She could wear the jeans and people probably wouldn't even notice. Hell, who was she kidding? If she wanted to remain anonymous, then she'd have to hide her wealth. One clue that she was part of the elite would be just another clue towards who she was… Brooke Penelope Sterling Davis- an heiress.

Brooke moved to the other side of the closet lined with more cardboard boxes. Delicately, she ran her hand across the name written in black permanent marker on the outside.

"Peyton," she whispered the name. Afraid that if she said it too loud, the visions would return.

Just like she did with the first box, she opened it after removing the tape. The sudden smell of her best friend hit her like a wall. It brought her a sense of happiness and dread at the same time.

Brooke pulled a pair of black sweatpants from the top. After digging through the clothes Larry had given her a few days ago, she found a white t-shirt that had a band name across the front. And before she took her eyes away from the box full of Peyton's belongings, Eli's cancer bracelet caught her eye.

Hesitantly, Brooke reached into the box for the bracelet. She didn't touch it, but it was in reach. That small little bracelet had been wrapped around Peyton's wrist every day since Eli's death, including the day of the school shooting. An inner battle raged on inside Brooke's mind. On one side, she wanted to wear it. There was no doubt it would make her feel closer to Peyton. And today of all days, she needed it. But on the other side, would wearing it bring back the pain of that very day?

That's when she made her decision. No matter what she did, the pain would never go away. Bracelet or no bracelet. She draped the metal around her wrist, clasping it close before finishing getting ready for school.

All it took was a pony tail, glasses, and a bit of chap-stick before Brooke was running out of the hotel lobby, ignoring the stares from the concierge.

If she was lucky, and the subway wasn't be packed, she'd make it there just in time.

And today, it appeared that luck was on her side… but appearances are not always what they seem.

With Schumann in sight, she started to walk slower. It was five minutes before the tardy bell would ring. And for the first time in a long time, Brooke felt relief. Anything was better than walking in front of the whole class again. The stares were becoming quite rattling.

Once in the building, she could tell her luck was changing again. The air was thick, almost like a storm was brewing. Eyes were all on her, worse than yesterday, if that was at all possible. She looked at the floor, silently scolding herself for her sweats. 'This isn't Tree Hill anymore Davis,' she practically yelled in her head. 'What the hell was I thinking? The object is to be invisible! Not the center of attention!'

Then, she heard it. A little snicker coming from a few girls huddled around their lockers.

"Great," she mumbled to herself.

However, embarrassment is not an emotion that a Davis dwells on. In fact, she had no embarrassment about the looks, giggles, and jokes. She just didn't want them to know who she really was. So, she lifted her head, looking straight ahead. When she turned the corner, her locker came into view.

The red painted letters halted her in her path. 'DYKE' was painted on her locker.

As if on cue, the giggles turned into loud laughter. It was so loud the noise seemed to be bouncing off the walls. Brooke finally broke her gaze from the offensive word. With the slight turn of her head, she saw them all. Staring. Laughing. Pointing.

In her peripheral vision, she could see red. Her vision immediately focused on the red head. The one from detention- Rachel something. Her arms were crossed along her chest with a shit eating grin on her face. And Brooke knew instantly. Rachel vandalized her locker. But there was a more important issue. Why?


End file.
